


the sun doesnt shine the same way it used to

by o0JayWolf0o



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Postpartum Depression, Sad Ending, Wanderlust, dave gets lonely as fuck thats all you need to know, lmao what do i tag here, travelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 12:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0JayWolf0o/pseuds/o0JayWolf0o
Summary: It's been 3 years since the game ended and Dave has missed Karkat for every second of it.





	the sun doesnt shine the same way it used to

**Author's Note:**

> so this is basically a vent   
>  it describes a trip to florida i took but i changed it up a fuck ton and put dave in it   
>  all of this was written on my phone too so rip me

There’s something very calm when you board the train. It’s easy to find a spot; it's one in the morning in Panama, Florida. Not many people are awake. You sit down as the train silently crawls forward and shuffle bit in your thick sweater, the word " STARLIGHT " written broadly across it. You stole it from your sister. You're not sure why.

The occasional bump on the tracks and murmur of someone on the train lull you as you speed through unknown cities. Your feelings of wanderlust are only amplified as the background swiftly blurs by, the occasional lightning bug glimmering in the darkness. Lights are bright on the train, contrasting against the dim atmosphere of the street. You see shops closing down and people stumbling drunkenly on walkways. It's kind of nice - excluding the latter.

The train screeches to a stop and you sit up, letting go of the pole and wandering out. It's cold, so you stuff your hands in the pockets of your sweater. You never really had a destination - in fact, you have never been to this city before now. You just needed to get away. You try not to think too hard about why.

It's fairly secluded when you follow a winding dirt road. There are no cars running along it and it's pitch black, even darker through your rounded shades. When you look up, you see thousands - millions - of stars glittering faintly above, stretching out farther than the eye can see. You've always loved space, though never really told anyone. Sometimes, when you still lived with your Bro, you'd sneak out on the roof and pretend you could see the belt of light over the pollution. You never really liked Texas. You could never see the stars.

You climb over a metal fence where the trees thin out and a large parking lot opens out before you. There's tables under roofs and a building that you vaguely make out to be a restroom. You don't have to piss, so you ignore it and begin adventuring forward, observing few things. A bottlecap there, a nickel here, dried gum to, a can of budlight fro. You're finally drawn to a small wooden bridge leading onto the beach.

It's a bit difficult to navigate, what with making sure sand doesn't crawl into your shoes, but you make it, finally landing onto the beach. You skirt the area, thankful you're wearing shoes as you notice itty-bitty broken shells resting upon the sand you traverse. 

You work around the shore, ears straining over the sound of crickets chirping and waves roaring and crashing this way and that. When you squat down to look at the water, you watch as sea foam, something you're unaccustomed to, splashes forward before receding into shadowy depths. You grab a clear mass when the waves leave it behind only to drop it when you realize it's a small jellyfish. The waters drive it back into the depths.

Your phone buzzes. You're sure it's Rose or your mom, so you blatantly ignore it. You're fine. You will come back home, eventually. You end up shutting the phone down entirely, resisting the urge to chuck it into the black waters and instead sliding it into your back pocket.

You reach a tumbling mass of broken up rocks formed into a makeshift dam. It blocks your way. You decide to climb on it, rubbing your palms together to spread feeling back into them. The rocks are rough - they hurt. Little angry dots form where the earth tried to puncture your skin but to no avail. You trek onward.

The rocks are sandy and hard to navigate. You slip once and almost kick a raccoon in the face, which chitters angrily at you before disappearing. You feel bad.

When you reach the end, you turn and wobble back to the middle of the dam. You sit down, kicking your legs back and forth over the overhang. It's still chilly, and you shiver, your goose-bump dotted skin rubbing uncomfortably against your clothing. You stare out over the waters for a while, thinking. Thinking.

The distant glow of a city you don't recognize beckons over the horizon. You blink at it. It's bright in contrast to the almost mournful, lonely darkness that surrounds you. You don't think about it. You fail.

You eventually recline back, letting your dull, red eyes wander over the stars. They used to be brighter - your eyes, that is. They’re more used to the darkness now, so you murmur constellations to yourself. ‘Ah, the big dipper. There's the little dipper.’ Here and there you spot Orion's Belt, what you think is a planet, and a cluster of stars called the Pleiades. It's serene, you can admit.

When it comes time to leave, you try not to think about how you know in your gut it's 2:46 am now. You don't like to think about aspects of the game, especially now that nobody else remembers and you're the only one left with your powers, but your connection to time has never thinned. You instead focus on how your feet thump rhythmically against the sand. Something catches your eye and you glance down, blinking at a small, baby crab. Smiling faintly, you pick it up. It reminds you of Karkat. Its pincers try to snap at you, but you just stick your tongue out at it and gently place it back on the sand. It scuttles back into the water and disappears, the water removing its tracks from existence.

You really miss Karkat. When you'd first had paradox space fuck with you, you'd entered Karkat's chumhandle into pesterchum numerous times. ‘carcinoGeneticist’. An error message had popped up, though. ‘We're sorry, but the handle you have entered has not been registered!’ You had cried for the first time in years that night.

Your chest constricts as you think about him. Karkat had been your foothold. He had been, well, your  _ everything _ . You remember when you'd first held him and when you'd first kissed him. You remember the times you'd made fun of his romcoms and pecked the lips of his flushed, red face to make up for it.

You near the bridge. You swiftly shake the sand from your shoes before slipping them back on and stumbling to a table. It's sprinkling lightly and the breeze has picked up, ruffling your strikingly white hair over your frosty, pale skin. You sit down and de-captchalogue a little note Karkat left for you forever ago. It had been when you'd still hated him, really. You're never sure why you kept it, or, for that matter, kept the notes he  _ continued _ to send to you.

"STRIDER,

“STOP WRITING HUMAN DICKS INTO MY GODDAMNED NOVELS OR I WILL FUCKING TEAR YOU A NEW ARTICULAR SPONGE FROM YOUR ASS.

“-KARKAT"

You continued to read over the letters until you had to stop, because your vision was blurring ever so slightly. Ah, yes. Tears. They're wonderful little things, introduced to you more commonly now that your boyfriend - or, as he’d call it, matesprit - had been scattered back to Alternia. You  _ really _ miss him. You really, really do.

You stand up, not bothering to wipe the mess of snot and water from your face as you step out into the pouring rain. You're not quite sure how long you'd been sitting there, reading Karkat's notes and letting tears fall, but it must have been a while (you’d been sitting there for 3 hours, 27 minutes, 4 seconds, and 23 milliseconds but you don’t admit it to yourself). You captchalogue your phone to be sure it doesn't ruin and wind down time until the only thing you hear is your steady heartbeat. The rain dotting your sweater begins to rise back into the air and birds soar backward into the sky. You watch yourself sit down in reverse and read the notes before stumbling back to the bridge and out of sight. The sun rises.

You drift up and over the clouds. You've always liked that you still have your powers, but also hated it. It's unfair and a constant reminder of the game. To be fair, though, your sylladex is, too. You're grateful you have the badge on your Kiddie Camper Handysash that allows you to carry things normally. You don't want anyone to know, of course.

When the clouds thin out and you see where you are, you recognize the town of New York. Of course, you'd flown here and back numerous times. You took the train because it took longer and gave you something to do. It also blended you in with the crowd. You float over to a familiar building and drift down, landing on the roof and sitting on the edge.

As the sun begins to fall, trickling shallow light over the city, you slide down the roof and let yourself fall, slowing down as you reach the ground. You land safely in an alley and stuff your hands in your pockets, pulling the hood to your sister's hoodie over your head and stalking out of the admittedly sketchy area. In the streets, men, woman, and everything in between are rushing along, cups of coffee draining as they stumble tiredly to their late-night work. You have school, and it's Monday, but your past self has already suffered through it.

You recognize where you are and begin to trudge back home. You clear your face of any bodily fluids and wipe your sleeves on buildings you pass as you let your eyes wander. You like people-watching, but now, you're tired, sad, and lonely.

You finally see your house, secluded deep in the woods and away from most of the city. Roxy, or, well, mom, is sitting on the steps of the mansion, fanning her face as she babbles on the phone. When she sees you, she gasps, rushing down the stairs and pulling you in a big hug. You return it, snuffing your face to her shoulder and letting out a sigh. You know she was worried - you don't usually stay out this long, to be fair, and you should’ve rewinded time a bit more so she wasn’t tired. You're fine, though (no you’re not), and you tell her so as she asks if you're hurt. When prompted as to where you were, you tell her you're going inside.

Rose is barely awake when you find her, slumped over on the big, white couch. She looks up blearily at you before grabbing you in a hug. She, too, asks where you've been and what happened, though you ignore her and slide into your room. You’d be concerned too if your brother didn’t come home from school until 9 pm.

Nobody is allowed in here. You've made sure of that. When Roxy or Rose need you, they knock until you hear them and tell you to come out. The reason they're not allowed in is because of the state your room is in.

You have sketches - honest to god sketches that you really, actually tried on - of Karkat and his friends lining your walls. You have drawings of imps, the SBURB logo, John, Calliope, Lord English, and countless more, too. The walls themselves have been painted a dark gray, a comforting color to you. The room smells of books and coffee, the scent associated with the one you love most. You won't lie, you think you're creepy, but god, you miss him. You loved him - and still do.

You crawl into bed, eyes heavy and watery once more. before grabbing a body pillow. It's blank - sure, you're lonely, but you are NOT the asshole who has their crush printed on a body pillow - and you lean your head into it. It's easy to imagine Karkat there, his form snoozing softly as you clutch his chest close to you. You cuddled with him a lot on the meteor, and he was always the little spoon despite being taller than you by a longshot.

As you drift off into unconsciousness, you try not to let the numbness of yourself get to you. You're depressed and sad, food tastes like bread, and you'll never see Karkat again, but maybe you'll get over him.

...Who are you kidding? That's some fairy tale bullshit right there. To rephrase your thoughts:

As you fall asleep, a deep, sad loneliness wraps around your being. You hug the pillow closer and hope to anything, even those stupid gods Gamzee used to preach about, that maybe you'll see Karkat one more time.

It's hopeless, though, and you know it.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are really cool and i like recieving them   
>  [ tumblr ](https://o0jaywolf0o.tumblr.com)


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